


Tesrei- Written in Blood

by Thunderthighs



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, star wars: Edge of the Empire rpg
Genre: Angst, Gen, Non-Consensual Drug Use, POV First Person, Player Character - Freeform, Slavery, character backstory, star wars edge of the empire rpg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 16:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17186288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunderthighs/pseuds/Thunderthighs
Summary: Tesrei is my zabrak PC for an ongoing Star Wars: Edge of the Empire campaign.This is her origin story, in her own words





	Tesrei- Written in Blood

****

Jarrand Sidevi, may he rot in torment.

Master of a tiny rock that he polluted with waste from the weapons he sold, and the corpses of those forced to make them. I was born on that rock, on Fondor, and the only glimpse of kindness and beauty I got for the first two decades of my life was my mother. Tali. She taught me in secret everything she could about our people, about the ways we couldn’t follow. She made sure I could speak Zabraki, though swore me never to speak it in front of the masters. She didn’t want to give them any excuse to take me from her.

She belonged to Master Jarrand you see, and that meant I did too. She worked in one of his factories all her life, and as soon as I was large enough to be of use, I joined her. The lesai that the masters kept running through our veins took away our need for sleep and kept us working longer and harder than would otherwise be possible. The only times I witnessed sleep was in the very young who had not yet received the “gift”, or those who had outlived usefulness and were let to slip into a slumber from which they would never wake.

A weapons factory may be no place for a child, but I never was one anyway. What I was was clever and quick and small enough to squeeze through gaps in the great machines to do repairs from the inside, formed and pruned into a useful tool, made to fear and worship the hands that used me. Eventually, the Master took notice of my clever hands and mind for tech, and had me brought from the factories. He kept me close, had me taught to slice through networks and move quietly. He would bring me with him on trips, just another nameless slave in his retinue, and use me to slip about unseen and steal secrets.

I don’t think Sidevi ever suspected he was giving me the tools to bring about his downfall.

I had been planning in secret for months, using the tools he gave me to infiltrate Sidevi’s own systems, inserting bits of code that wouldn’t be noticed, but that would eventually grant me complete control. 

I wasn’t fast enough. My mother had hidden the aching in her joints, the shake in her hands even from me, but she couldn’t hide her drop in productivity from the masters.

The day I heard she had fallen asleep was the day I painted Jarrand Sedevi’s manse with his own blood.

In my rage, I didn’t take time to signal the others. I slipped through the backdoors I’d left in the security system and set the protocols against the few human guards, triggered the factory shutdowns, and opened all the doors.

In the chaos, Sidevi never heard me sneak up behind him as he frantically tried to gain entrance to the panic room I had locked against him. I made sure the last thing he heard as my blade dug into his throat was my voice. 

_ “Time to sleep, Master.” _

I’m not sure how many of us managed to make their escape that day, there were five with me when I fled, and we eventually had to split up to avoid capture, one stolen communicator between us. I wish I had kept a cooler head, I wish I had gotten more people out, but I can’t change what I did, and I never want to forget the feeling of my former master’s blood hot on my hands as the life drained from him. So for now, I wait. I tell myself every day that the five I sent off on their own are okay, that the only reason they haven’t contacted me is because they’re safe in hiding, or perhaps they misplaced the comm ID. 

I’m not sure how much longer I can keep believing that.

****  
  
  
  
  



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